


Hetalia Fluff Oneshots

by whiskeringalms (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:20:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7204787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/whiskeringalms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hetalia Fluff Oneshots (These are originally from my Fanfiction.net, but I thought bringing them over here would be an ok idea I guess)</p><p>**DISCONTINUED**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vladimir's Birthday (Norway X Romania)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lukas tries (and fails) to put together a half-decent birthday thing for Vladimir.  
> He fucks it up.  
> Really badly.

It was a nice day in Oslo, Norway. Vladimir Anton was fast asleep, at 8 o'clock this fine morning. Lukas Bondevik quietly snuck out of the room after slipping out of his pyjamas and into his traditionally worn sailor-type suit.  
"Alright, let's get started..." Lukas headed into the kitchen, where he would start making breakfast for Vladimir. "Vlad likes things simple... so maybe some eggs and toast... I can make butter cookies for him afterwards."

Already things were beginning to turn for the worst.  
The toast was burnt, and several pieces of shell ended up in the frying pan alongside the yolk.  
"Dammit!" Lukas hissed. _Already, I fucked up... dammit... Vlad deserves better than this..._  
The Norwegian let out a frustrated groan. "Faen... maybe I should just get started on the decorations..."

The decorating also went downhill. Streamers were falling off the ceiling, balloons wouldn't inflate properly, and banners ripped and tore.  
"God fucking dammit!" Lukas muttered under his breath, "nothing is fucking working!" He was beginning to stress out. Everything was going horribly wrong. What was he going to do if Vladimir came down before he was ready.  
Maybe baking a cake would be easier.

He was wrong. Oh, how Lukas Steil Bondevik was wrong. He'd spilt milk and flour and shelly egg yolks everywhere.  
Lukas sat in the middle of the messy kitchen, holding his head and quietly crying in frustration. He himself was covered in flour.  
"Lukas?"  
Lukas flinched and looked over at the kitchen entrance, where Vladimir stood in his sensible cloth pyjamas. "V-Vlad...!"  
"Lukas, what is going on?" the Romanian asked.  
"I-I'm sorry, Vlad...!" Lukas sobbed in response, "y-you deserve s-so much b-better th-than this... e-especially on your b-birthday...!"  
"Lukas... oh, Lukas..." Vladimir sighed with a small smile and approached the Norwegian. He sat down next to him. "You didn't have to do any of this! Really! All you had to do was say 'Happy Birthday!' That would have been totally fine!"  
"B-but you d-deserve better!" the tears were quickly running from Lukas' eyes.  
"Luke, really," Vladimir wrapped his arms around the Norwegian, "I couldn't ask for anything better than you!"  
"R-really...?""  
"Really." Vladimir grinned happily and tightly hugged the sniffling blond. Lukas hugged him back  
"I-I just... w-w-wanted to m-make this day special for you..."  
"Every day is special when I'm with you!" Vladimir responded, "I love you so much, Lukas!"  
"I-I love you, too." Lukas murmured. He wiped his eyes, still sniffling.  
"Now, what do you say we clean this kitchen up?" Vladimir suggested, "then we can go wake up Andrei and go out for the day?"  
Lukas nodded. "Sounds like a plan."


	2. Happy Horror (America X Japan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie time~! But this time America isn't the scaredy cat!

Honda Kiku shudders as the pictures of the horror movie flash before his eyes. Normally it was his lover, Alfred Franklin Jones, who would be dealing with the nightmares. But for some [oddly convenient] reason, it's the other way round. Kiku curls into the fetal position, and a few moments later he feels a strong arm wrap around him.  
"Hey, babe... you scared...?" Alfred's voice flutters into the Japanese male's ear as a soothing note of music would.  
"H-hai..." Kiku whispers in response. He shifts backwards, pushing himself more into Alfred. Not even in the most terrifying circumstances would he have been comfortable in this position; however as mentioned before, he and Alfred are lovers.  
Kiku smiles very slightly at the thought of "lovers." Alfred had only asked him out an hour or two ago, and the recent memory of this even slips and replays in the Asian's active mind.

While Kiku was focused on the movie, he was feeling rather odd. He had a major crush on Alfred, but never knew how to tell him. That awkward sensation mixed in with the horror film in front of him made him feel sick to his stomach.  
The movie truly was terrifying. An anonymous group of serial killers running around trafficking drugs and prostitutes only to have people dying within a day of taking the drugs, and the prostitutes turn up dead. Kiku hugged his legs tightly, peering up over his knees and shakily eying the mutilated whore's body.  
"What's wrong with you, Kee?" Alfred asked worriedly, pausing the movie.  
Kiku flinched as the American spoke; his dark eyes darted to glare at the silhouette of the blonde. "N-nothing, Alfred..." he responded nervously, his hold on his legs tightening.  
"You don't seem like you're okay," Alfred said. He shifted so that he was sitting facing the Asian. "Talk to me, Kiku. If it's the movie, then we can turn it off and do something else."  
Kiku shook his head. "I-I'm fine, Alfred..." he murmured.  
"Clearly not," Alfred insisted, "spill, bud." He sat in easy pose (aka, cross-legged).  
Kiku shook his head. "I-I can't... it's embarrassing..."  
"You can tell me anything, Kiku!" Alfred frowned, "you... you do trust me, right...?" His eyes melted into a sad puppy-dog look, as if Kiku's hiding of a secret were physically hurting him.  
"W-well, h-hai..." Kiku nodded, "b-but... I-I don't know how you'd feel about me in return..."  
"Nothing can change how I feel, Kiku," Alfred sighed, "I really care about you, you know."  
"I-I care about you too, Alfred..."  
"Bet I care more."  
"I doubt it, Alfred-kun," Kiku replied.  
"You'd be surprised," Alfred laughed, "and I think now I know what your secret is!"  
"W-what...!?" Kiku's eyes widened.  
"You have a crush on me~"  
The Asian's face flushed a beet red shade. "I... I-I-I-I..." his words came out as broken stutters of the English language.  
"Nah, Keeks, you don't need to worry about me thinkin' of ya differently!" Alfred wrapped two fairly toned arms around the dark-haired male. "See, I did say I care more!"  
Kiku glanced up at Alfred. "R... d-do you... really...?"  
"'Course I do!" the American replied with a huge grin. "I love you, Honda Kiku. More than anything else and everything else."

More than anything else.  
Those are the words that repeat the most in his head. The words that had made Kiku the happiest out of everything Alfred had said.  
"You're awfully quiet there, Keeks..." Alfred whispers.  
"Sorry, Alfred-kun..." Kiku turns over to face the blond, who is still holding him closely, "I'm fine, just... thinking..."  
"About what?"  
"About earlier tonight. I was just remembering what happened."  
"I'm glad it happened," Alfred smiles softly and kisses Kiku's forehead.  
"I'm glad too, Alfred," Kiku wrapped his arms around the larger male's waist. "Nothing has ever made me happier."


	3. Graveside Memories (France X England)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis and Arthur share a slightly tense conversation about Francis' long dead love of his life.

Francis Bonnefoy let out a shaky sigh before he set down a bouquet of irises in front of the cross-shaped headstone. The date was May 30th, also known as Feast Day, and was the anniversary of the burning of Sainte Jeanne d'Arc.  
Tears rolled down Francis' cheeks as his mind resorted to flashbacks of that day. The day the English captured Jeanne and burned her after convicting her of heresy and many other charges. _She would not have died if it weren't for me..._ the Frenchman thought, _at least... she wouldn't have died so early had I been able to protect her..._  
Francis sat down in front of the monument, staring up at the cross with sad ocean eyes. The sea of misery leaked from the colour in his irises as he mourned the long-passed loss of the girl who was the love of his life. He hugged his knees tightly, sitting in utter silence. He was so focused on the flashbacks that he never noticed the presence of another until they spoke.  
"It's been many centuries, yet you've been so faithful as to visit her grave every Feast Day..."  
Francis looked up, hearing the familiarity of the English accented male voice. "Arthur..." he whispered.  
"Hello, Francis..." Arthur Kirkland's emerald eyes met with Francis' own sapphire ones. The Englishman sat down next to the Frenchman and sighed. "It's painful, huh...? Having to live with seeing her get killed right in front of your very own eyes..."  
Francis nodded quietly, averting his eyes from Arthur's and staring at the cross in front of him.  
"It's painful for me, too..."  
"How?" Francis asked; his voice broke, and was laced with sadness.  
"Because my people are the ones who took them from you..."  
Arthur and Francis looked at each other, both giving each other very sympathetic and depressed looks.  
"Francis, if you had any idea how horrible I feel about it-"  
"But it wasn't even your fault, Arthur... i-it was mine..."  
"Come on, old frog, it wasn't your fault at all! It's not like you sold her out or anything!"  
"Still... I could have tried harder to protect her..."  
Arthur wrapped an arm around his fellow European. "Francis, please... stop blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault at all, I assure you. Even if you were at fault at all, I still am at fault more than you."  
Francis sighed shakily. "Maybe..." he rested his head on Arthur's shoulder.  
"You aren't still angry with me because of what happened, are you...?" asked the Brit.  
The Frenchie shook his head. "No... I was never angry... just... just upset that any of it happened..."  
"Francis-"  
"But... I feel Jeanne may be happier up there... in Heaven, with God, I mean," Francis allowed the tiniest of smiles to curve on his dried lips.  
Arthur gave Francis an odd look, before he himself smiled. "She's watching over you."  
"She... is...?" Francis asked. He lifted his head off of Arthur's shoulder and looked into his eyes.  
"Of course she is," Arthur replied, "every other day she comes down and follows you around, making sure you're doing alright. She's been doing it for centuries."  
Francis' eyes glimmered, and he seemed almost ecstatic. "I never knew..."  
"Well, you aren't able to see her spirit. She isn't allowed interfering with your life. At least, not without special permission from God."  
"What if I asked him? Would I be able to see her then?" Francis asked.  
"Maybe," Arthur responded, "I'm not sure how He works."  
"Oh..." disappointment replaced the joy in Francis' voice.  
"However, I don't see why we can't try asking," Arthur smiled, and hugged the Frenchman gently, "just pray to him before you sleep, or whatever it is you crazy Catholics do." He chuckled quietly at "crazy." Catholics certainly were much stricter than Protestants.  
Francis grinned again, before hugging Arthur in return. "I will. I just... I really want to see her again..."  
"I know you do," Arthur replied, "I know..."  
They stayed quiet, holding each other in a tight embrace. Arthur planted a gentle kiss on the top of Francis' head, feeling proud; it was rare to see the Catholic male happy on this day. Normally he would visit the grave and lay down a bouquet of irises, talk to the cross for an hour, and retreat to his home to mourn alone.  
"Arthur...?"  
"Yes, love?"  
"Let's go home..."  
Arthur nodded. "Alright." They two stood up and, holding hands, they stayed a moment longer to pay respects before turning and leaving the area.  
As they walked, Arthur occasionally glanced behind him. As if someone were following them.  
"Arthur, is there a problem...?" Francis asked.  
Arthur shook his head. "No, there is no problem at all." He smiled at Francis, who smiled in return and watched the path ahead of them again.  
_No problem at all..._ Arthur thought to himself. He shifted his eyes to the path ahead, knowing full well that Sainte Jeanne d'Arc was watching them.  
Right from behind.


	4. Smile, Lien! (North Italy X Vietnam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feliciano tries to get Lien to smile (and probably internally dies trying)

Feliciano sighed quietly. How was it difficult for him, Feliciano Romulus Vargas, to make someone smile? Though it was Chung Lien, a Vietnamese girl he had met years ago and had become best friends with not long after meeting. Their personalities certainly clashed, and that's what made them bond so much.  
Feliciano was a bubbly and outgoing boy, who could talk to anyone without feeling nervous. He loved to socialize, and he enjoyed eating a lot. He was always happy, and smiled constantly.  
Lien was a shy and proper young lady, feeling uncomfortable and awkward in most social situations. She was very reserved, and never stepped out of line. A genuine smile was rare.  
"Lien, what's it going to take to get a real smile out of you?" the Italian asked. He had a slight pout on his lips.  
"I don't know..." she responded, "I've never really found much of a need for a smile. After all, what is there to be happy about? We're all going to die someday."  
_Dark,_ Feliciano thought, _what the hell!? She's never said anything dark like that before..._ "Okay, yeah, we're all gonna die someday," Feliciano agreed, "but! That's why we should live life to the fullest!"  
"There is nothing to really enjoy. The world isn't exactly clean and rainbows and butterflies, you know."  
"But it isn't entirely darkness and depression, either!" Feliciano sighed, "there's gotta be something that'll make you laugh, or at least smile!"  
Lien shrugged. "Maybe..."  
"I'll find a way!" Feliciano announced, "Chung Lien, you are going to be smiling by the end of the day!"

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU HAVEN'T SMILED ALL DAY!" Feliciano felt defeated. From morning until evening, he had been trying hard to make Lien smile.  
They went out to the beach.  
_"Beaches are boring. There are marine lives that last shorter than humans."_  
They went out for lunch AND supper.  
_"This food is just prolonging a pointless life. Even if it's somewhat appealing to my stomach."_  
They went to see street performers.  
_"That fire is just going to kill him in the end. I don't see why he wants to eat it if it's going to cook him from the inside."  
The whole day they'd been out and about in Rome, Feliciano showing Lien all of the touristic sites. She kept a mostly deadpan and serious expression the whole time._

_"Here we are!" Feliciano exclaimed, "the Roman Colosseum! Constructed around 70 or 80 A.D.! Isn't it amazing? It's a part of my country's amazing and artistic history!"_  
Lien eyed the building for a moment before shrugging. "It's nothing extraordinary..."  
Feliciano's heart sank. She wasn't impressed by such an amazing piece of Italy's life? Why not!? 

_"The Trevi Fountain!" Feliciano had an arm draped across the Vietnamese girl's shoulders as he proudly showed off the monument in front of them, "built in 1732!"_  
"It's... decent..." Lien responded blankly, "but it's just a fountain."  
Dammit! _Feliciano thought,_ why isn't she smiling about anything!?

_"The Sistine Chapel! Built in between 1477 and 1480, and painted by Michelangelo in-between 1508 and 1512!"_  
"I'm not religious, sorry..."  
"Religion doesn't matter!" Feliciano huffed, "it's a beautiful chapel!"  
Lien shrugged. "I'm not impressed, really. Sorry." 

"Dammit, Lien..." Feliciano sighed, "what will it take?"  
"There _is_ one thing..."  
Feliciano eyed Lien suspiciously. There was something to make her smile? What was it?  
"What is it?" Feliciano asked curiously.  
"You'll have to figure it out for yourself, Feli," Lien answered. Feliciano kept watching her, noticing that her face was a light shade of pink. Her eyes met with his, and he smiled.  
"You're blushing Lien," he noted, and poked her cheek softly, "that's never happened before~!"  
"U-um..." Lien looked away from Feliciano. Her face deepened in colour, and Feliciano chuckled. He leaned over and kissed the Vietnamese girl's cheek, earning a surprised squeak out of her. "F-Feli...!"  
"Was that it?" Feliciano asked. He had a huge grin on his face.  
Lien stared for a few moments, before her own lips curled into a smile. "Y-yes..." she replied shyly, "th-that was it..."  
Feliciano beamed, and he threw his arms around her. "I figured it out!"  
Lien was unsure of how to react to all of this. She simple stayed quiet, that same small smile on her lips.  
"I feel... I feel like there's something more..." Feliciano murmured. He plopped his chin on Lien's shoulder.  
"O-oh...?" Lien asked.  
"Will you..." Feliciano lifted his head and took her hands in his. "Will you go out with me?"  
Lien's face flushed, and Feliciano could have sworn he heard her gasp in shock.  
"F-Feli..." she whispered. "Y-yes..." she nodded in response, "I-I will..." she threw her arms around the Italian's neck, hugging him tightly.  
Feliciano embraced her in return, smiling brightly. He hadn't expected to end up with a girlfriend, but one thing was for certain: he'd finally learned how to get Lien to smile.


	5. My Broken Rose, Fixed (Russia X France)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumours can be a deadly thing.  
> So can cyanide pills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide ment  
> Don't read if you're uncomfortable with/are triggered by suicide or depressions or such
> 
> **spoiler maybe? no one actually dies

Francis always showed his affections and care for the other Nations. On their birthdays, he would send them a rose anonymously, whether that Nation hated him or not.  
He cared too much for them all, despite the nasty rumours they would spread about him being a rapist or a pervert. The rumours seriously hurt Francis' self esteem, more and more every time someone called him out on them. However that never stopped him from caring about the others' wellbeings.  
Even as he wallowed in misery and slowly began to loathe himself, the Frenchman still cared.  
However, even he had his limits. And this limit could have quite possibly ended his life.

Ivan was also subject to rumours spread by the Nations. Most believed him to be a child-like psychopath, possibly sociopathic as well. The others normally avoided him, in fear that he would hurt them. But the Russian could never do such a thing. He only wanted a friend. Just one friend to talk to, to have fun with. But none of them wanted anything to do with him.  
The words tore at Ivan's heart, and caused him great emotional pain. He didn't want to end up hurting anyone, but a body could only handle so much before the mind finally snapped.

There was a World Meeting.  
Francis sat quietly in his seat, not speaking to the German personification, Ludwig, or the Spanish personification, Antonio, at either of his sides. He stared silently at the table in front of him. Arthur, the personification of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, was talking. But Francis didn't know what he was saying; he found it impossible to focus at all, with words of the rumours finally taking over and flooding his mind.  
_Why do I even bother...?_ he thought, _it's not like anyone would really miss me if I died... it's not like they even really care... I try... I really do... I just... wish one of them would care like I do..._ he sighed out loud, earning looks from Ludwig and Antonio.  
"Amigo, are you feeling okay...?" Antonio asked, "you don't seem the same anymore."  
"I'm fine..." Francis answered, his voice low, "just tired, is all..."  
"Are you sure, Francis?" Ludwig asked; his thick-accented voice was laced with worry.  
Francis nodded in response. The two neighbouring Nations didn't question him any further. The Frenchman's tired eyes darted around the room; he noticed Ivan was looking over at him, with a look of what seemed to be worry on his face. Wait... worry? No...  
_I'm mistaken... he thought, he wouldn't be worried..._

Lunchbreak rolled around. The Nations would all leave the building and head for restaurants and fast food chains to eat and chat about things other than global problems. But Francis stayed. Well, he stayed in the building and not just the Conference Room. There was something he was going to do. Something big, something he believed was going to release him from the misery he'd felt after the intense hatred the others seemed to have for him. With a small smile on his face, Francis wandered the halls in search of a small case filled with the things he would need to end it all.

Ivan's legs walked at a steady pace. He needed to find Francis. He needed to know what was wrong.  
Ivan cared deeply for the Frenchman, though he believed that his feelings were unrequited. But Francis seemed way off the spectrum of normal behaviour. Normally he would be joking around with Allistor, making fun of Arthur for being boring and angry all the time. However today he barely spoke a word, and seemed exhausted; sick, even..  
Ivan's original plan was find Francis and give him a rose; the Russian was the only one to know who sent the anonymous birthday flowers. But Francis' health and feelings were more important than a stupid rose.  
Not being able to see the blond anywhere, he called out in his fairly thick accent. "Francis? Francis, are you still here?" He stayed quiet for a moment, listening for any response. The only sounds he could hear were something almost inaudible from the bathrooms. It sounded almost like... crying? Ivan headed for the restrooms, his levels of concern skyrocketing through the roof. What he came in to see was certainly not what he'd expected.  
Francis was on his knees, hunched over and sobbing on the floor, a small bottle sitting next to him. His sobs were wracked with misery, and the scene in front of him proved to Ivan that Francis was, indeed, not okay.  
"Francis? Francis, are you okay?" He went over and knelt down next to him. "What is this bottle?"  
Francis didn't respond; he didn't even look at the Russian. Ivan took it upon himself to see what the bottle was. His heart sank and his snow-kissed skin paled further as he read the label.  
_Cyanide tablets._  
"F-Fran... cis...?" he choked out, "please, please, PLEASE tell me you didn't already take one...!"  
Francis shook his head. He slowly straightened up, body trembling as the tears continued cascading down his cheeks. "B-but what... w-w-what do you c-care...?"  
"More than you think," Ivan responded, "but... why...? What were you thinking, planning to take cyanide pills!?"  
"W-well..." the blond explained, "I-I f-figured... n-no one here really c-cares for me... so... w-why bother staying...?"  
Ivan's heart shattered. This is what he'd been feeling all along? No wonder he was so miserable!  
"Francis, I-"  
"I-I saw you looking at me... d-during the meeting..." Francis continued, "I-I though I saw c-concern in your eyes, but there's no way..."  
"Francis, please, just listen to me for a minute, okay?" Ivan asked, "doing this... it isn't right. Nobody wants you to kill yourself, they just.. I don't know... I guess they're just doing it for fun? I mean, they make rumours about me all the time! Calling me a childish psychopath, and other things. It's hard to ignore it, I know, but I managed it. If I can do it, so can you. I mean, you're perfect in every way! You're smart, passionate, considerate, beautiful..." his voice trailed off as he noticed the look in Francis' eyes.  
"You... mean it...?" Francis asked. His cheeks were pale and tear-stained, and his eyes were beginning to swell a little from sobbing so hard. His lower lip was quivering, and his body was shaking.  
"Well..." Ivan's cheeks flushed brightly, "of course I do..." he smiled innocently at the blond. "You don't know how long I've waited to tell you these things... Francis, I..." he sighed and stated, "I love you." He wrapped his arms around Francis, pulling him close and holding him a tight embrace. "I love you so much, I can barely contain it."  
Francis latched onto Ivan. "I-Ivan..." he whispered, "I-I'm sorry..."  
"There's no need to apologize..." Ivan planted a gentle kiss on the top of Francis' head. "You don't have to worry about anything anymore, I'm here for you, I promise... but I think... I think we should get rid of those pills. Okay?"  
The Frenchman nodded. "O-okay..."  
"And after that we can get you cleaned up, and we can go out for lunch," Ivan added. He stood up, bringing Francis up with him. "But first... there's something I want to give to you."  
"W-what is it...?" Francis asked. His puffy blue eyes locked onto Ivan's own soft violet ones.  
"Well, it's probably all squished by now... and probably a little dead, but..." Ivan reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rose; the petals that survived being squished were laced at the edges with death.  
"I-Ivan..."  
"I know you're the one sending everyone roses on their birthdays... I figured... I'd want to return the favour, you know? But it's probably not as beautiful now-"  
"But it is..." Francis answered, "it's the thought that counts, right...?" He gently took the dying flower and managed a small smile. " _Merci_ , Ivan... _je t'aime_..." he propped himself up on his tiptoes and pressed his lips against the Russian's.  
Ivan blushed deeply and kissed him back, keeping his arms wrapped around him.  
" _Ya tebya lyublyu_..." Ivan whispered upon separation of their lips.  
The kiss was replaced by two smiles. Two smiles that were begging to stretch free, and that finally had the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Merci - Thanks/Thank you (French)  
> Je t'aime - I love you (French)
> 
> Ya tebya lyublyu - I love you (Russian)


	6. Nightmare (Germany X France)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Francis wakes up screaming from a nightmare, and it's up to Ludwig to keep him calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape mention
> 
> also this iS MY FUCKKIGIN OTP

Ludwig stirred in his sleep as he felt two hands grip onto his arm. The hands squeezed hard, sending small bouts of pain to his brain to be registered. Ludwig opened his eyes and shifted, turning over to see his lover, Francis, clinging to him tightly.  
"Francis...?" the German asked quietly. He gently shook the Frenchman, who only whined. The whine sounded as if there were tears mixed in. Ludwig wondered if Francis was having a nightmare; something he was quite susceptible to. "Francis, please... wake up," Ludwig implored. He kept shaking the smaller blonde gently, his worry for him growing. "Francis. Wake up."  
Francis stirred and gasped in his sleep. His cling on the larger male tightened, and he buried his face in Ludwig's chest. Small murmurs of what seemed to be terrified French were heard.  
"Francis!" Ludwig whisper-yelled.  
Francis flinched and screamed, shooting upright. He was shaking hard, his hair covering his pale face. His body was wracked with sobs.  
"Francis, what's wrong?" Ludwig asked. He sat up and reached out to the Frenchman, who seemed to be in quite the panic.  
Francis took one look at Ludwig before springing forward and latching onto him. He let out scared cries, clinging tightly.  
"Was it a nightmare?" Ludwig asked. His arms were wrapped tightly around the smaller male, holding him close and hoping to keep him calm.  
Francis nodded shakily, sobbing his heart out.  
Ludwig frowned. It was probably the one recurring nightmare the Frenchman always had.  
Francis had only known abuse up until he'd met Ludwig. His parents had been drunkards who refused to properly feed him. His father had raped him on numerous occasions. He was bullied throughout his school years. He'd attempted suicide once, only to wake up in the hospital thanks to an unknown stranger. Then he'd been forced into a very unhealthy and abusive relationship with another man, a relationship that lasted for several years before someone found out and contacted authorities. A lifetime of hurt would naturally allow nightmares and mental disorders to ensue; Francis was diagnosed with anxiety and post-traumatic stress disorder prior to the authorities being contacted, and the memory of what he'd gone through in life would often disturb him in his sleep.  
"It wasn't real..." Ludwig murmured. He ran a gentle hand through Francis' shoulder-length locks. "Nobody is going to hurt you, _mein liebling_... I promise you, it was just a dream..."  
"I-i-i-t f-felt s-so real..." Francis choked out. He buried his face in Ludwig's neck, trembling and crying.  
Ludwig rested his chin on Francis' head. He rubbed the smaller male's back soothingly, gently rocking side to side. At times like this, it was always best to let the Frenchman get out his fears and tears. Once he had calmed down, then he'd be calmly spoken to and asked about what he saw in his nightmare. It was usually quite disturbing, with many of the nightmares being first-person views of either Francis or the ex that abused him.  
When Francis had managed to calm himself down enough to manage out understandable words, Ludwig looked him straight in the eyes and asked, "do you want to talk about it?"  
Francis shook his head. "N-n-not y-yet... n-not ready..." he hiccuped, keeping his head buried in Ludwig's neck.  
"That's fine..." Ludwig responded. He kept his arms wrapped comfortingly around the smaller male, holding him close enough to make him feel safe and protected. " _Ich liebe dich_ , Francis..."  
" _J-je t'aime, aussi_..." Francis murmured. The Frenchman stayed pressed up tightly against the German, shaking and sniffling.  
They stayed like that for a few minutes, silent other than Francis' sniffles, which were dying down.  
Francis spoke up, "i-it was so... s-so scary..." he choked out. He lifted his head a little bit.  
"Are you ready to talk about it now?" Ludwig asked. He cupped Francis' cheek and carefully lifted his face to look at his eyes; the smaller male's eyes were red and puffy, and his cheeks tear-stained.  
Francis nodded hesitantly. He inhaled shakily and began. "I-it was... m-me walking through a-a dark building... a-and there was blood e-everywhere... I walked... I w-went into a room..." his eyes welled up again. "I-in the room... y-you were i-in the room..."  
"Oh...?" Ludwig asked.  
Francis nodded. "Y-you were dead..."  
Ludwig froze. This was new; over the many, many nightmares throughout the few years they'd spent together, Francis had never had one with a dead Ludwig in it. It was always only himself and the ex in the dreams. "U-um... what do you mean, _liebling_...?"  
"I-intestines... e-everywhere..." Francis responded. He started to shake more, and he let out a choked sob. "A-and... h-he was there... w-with a kn-knife... h-he s-started c-c-coming a-after me... t-then... I-I w-woke u-up..." Tears were pouring from his eyes all over again. "W-w-what i-if it b-becomes r-real?"  
Ludwig combed a gentle hand through Francis' hair and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Francis, I promise you that will not happen," he stated, "I swear. He isn't going to hurt either of us. He won't touch me, and I'll make damn sure he stays far away from you."  
"B-but w-what if you c-can't keep that promise?" Francis asked.  
"Francis, I can keep that promise, and I will," Ludwig responded firmly. He kept his eyes locked with Francis'. "I promise you." With that he leaned down and lovingly pecked the other's lips. "I love you..." he murmured after.  
"I-I love you, t-too..." Francis whispered. He rested his head on Ludwig's chest, still sniffling. He wrapped his arms around the German's waist and clung tightly, with the larger male holding him closely. Soon Francis fell asleep again, his breathing smoothing out after a while.  
Ludwig smiled to himself and kissed the top of Francis' head. I'm sure the nightmares will stop someday, liebling... someday... He laid back, bringing Francis down to lay on top of him. The Frenchman remained draped over Ludwig's body, utterly quiet and almost peaceful. Ludwig himself soon dozed off, arms holding Francis protectively. There they remained until the next morning, where the dawn of the new day greeted them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> German  
> Mein liebling - my love  
> Ich liebe dich - I love you.
> 
> French  
> Je t'aime, aussi - I love you, too.


	7. You Worried Me Sick (Norway X Finland)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voices.  
> They're the only thing Lukas truly knew throughout his life.

The voices, they wouldn't stop.  
Hallucinations galore.  
Enough to drive a person into a mental state so broken they would surely end up killing themselves or someone else.  
This was the life Lukas had to live. Ever since he was five years old, it was nothing but medications after medications, psychiatrists by the dozen, hundreds of doctor's appointments and visits to a mental hospital.  
Now here he was, twenty-one years old, breaking down in the middle of his university dorm room. His roommate and lover, Tino, wasn't around; he was out for his afternoon lecture. This left the Norwegian all alone, with no one to help him. After what he'd just done, death was around the corner for him.  
The tears poured from his eyes as he panicked, a scream tearing at the lump in his throat, desperate to escape. Lukas was curled up on the floor, empty pill bottles laying next to a puddle of blood and vomit. He was heaving up nothing, an effect of overdosing the medications that were supposed to prevent his problems. The blond choked; bile had caught in his throat. He couldn't breathe. Lukas could feel the lack of oxygen beginning to apply a harsh pressure to his brain; the pain was making his head throb. Tears streaked down his pale, tear-stained face as he pushed his fingers down his throat to try and force the bile to eject itself.  
Success.  
After a few heaves he managed, the bile spraying out of his mouth and all over the floor in front of him. Yet everything still hurt. His head, his gut, everything. He felt as if time had completely stopped. He felt as if he were dying, but at the same time he wasn't. He remained curled up, allowing the pain and torture to envelop him. He could hear nothing but his heart slowing down, falling at last to the power of his overdose.  
"... as!"  
Something broke through the overwhelming sound of his slowing heart. Tino? It couldn't be... he was out at a lecture... right?  
"LU... AS!" the voice sounded like it was submerged under water, and was cutting in and out. Through his blacking out vision he could just barely see someone drop down onto their knees in front of him.  
Then nothing.  
Just darkness.

 _Beep... beep... beep..._  
"He sh...uld b... awak... on..."  
_Beep... beep... beep..._  
"C... on, Luk..."  
_Beep... beep... beep..._  
"He's... he's waking up!"  
A bright light entered Lukas' eyes. He groaned quietly, taking moments to focus on anything. His eyes, once focused, locked onto the face of his roommate, Tino.  
"Lukas, you're awake!"  
Lukas let out a weak cough, before making an attempt at speaking, "w... w-where..."  
"Shh, just take it easy..." Tino murmured in response. He was seated in a chair next to the bed, and he reached over and began to gently pet Lukas' hair, "you just need to rest..."  
"B-but... T-Tino..." Lukas spoke weakly. He tried to speak more, but burst into a series of pained coughs and gags.  
"Lukas, please, just... just take it easy..." Tino responded, "turn onto your side so you don't choke... and go to sleep."  
Lukas did turn over, but wouldn't sleep. "'M not tired..." he muttered.  
"How about... how about if I lay down with you?" Tino asked, "would you go to sleep then?"  
"M... m-maybe..." Lukas answered.  
Tino smiled softly and stood up. He took of his shoes and carefully climbed up into the bed, being very cautious as to not hurt Lukas in any way. He laid down next to the Norwegian and hugged him tightly but gently. "I love you so much, Lukas... you have no idea how scared I was when I found you..."  
"I'm... I'm sorry for worrying you..."  
"Please, Lukas, you needn't apologize... I just..." Tino sighed, "I just need you to tell me... was it an accident?"  
"Was what an accident...?"  
"Overdosing..."  
"Oh... y-yeah, it was... f-forgot to take my meds at the proper time... I-I panicked... I-I-I'm s-s-sorry..." his voice broke as tears began to well in his eyes.  
"No, no, Lukas, please! You don't need to apologize..." Tino pressed a sweet and gentle kiss on Lukas' forehead, "it wasn't your fault, I should have made sure you took your pills before you left for class..."  
Lukas latched onto Tino, sobbing quietly. He buried his face into the Finn's, emotions quietly letting themselves free.  
"Lukas..." Tino whispered, "you don't need to feel bad about it..." With one hand he rubbed the Norwegian's back soothingly, and with the other he played with the fringe of his hospitalized lover's hair. "You don't need to cry... I'm here for you, I love you so much, Lukas... shhh..." He tried to comfort Lukas, something which was normally easy for him. Usually Lukas would calm down within less than two minutes.  
Fortunately his comfort was working, and Lukas was soon reduced to sniffles. His face still buried in Tino's neck, he sighed.  
"You okay...?" Tino asked.  
"Y-yeah..." Lukas answered, "f-fine..."  
"Are you sure?"  
Lukas nodded. "Positive..."  
Tino looked at him for a moment, unsure of whether to believe him or not. But he sighed and said, "If you say so." Tino laid his head on Lukas' and moved the hand on Lukas' back to take his hand. "I love you, you know."  
"Love you too..."  
Tino smiled. "You still sound sleepy. Maybe you should get some rest..."  
"Not... not tired..." the Norwegian murmured in response.  
'But you said you'd sleep if I laid down with you..."  
Lukas didn't respond.  
"Please?"  
"Not tired..."  
"Lukas..."  
"No."  
"Come on..."  
"... fine," Lukas pouted.  
"Thank you..." Tino murmured. He gently pressed a kiss on Lukas' forehead.  
Lukas only pouted more in response, and curled up and closed his eyes. Within minutes, Tino could tell he was asleep by the smooth breaths that entered and exited his body.  
The Finn smiled softly and ran a gentle hand through Lukas' hair. He knew the Norwegian would be fine. He closed his eyes and fell into a slumber, holding his lover closely and doubly reassuring himself it would all be okay in the end.


End file.
